


triptych

by mackdizzy, prioriteas



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (it's like one line), Body Horror, Book: It Devours!, Brief mentions of torture, Eye Trauma, It Devours Spoilers, MILD MILD MILD body horror and eye trauma, Needles, Non-Mutual Pining, Pining, SPOILERS UP TO EPISODE 100, Stitches, The Desert Otherworld (Welcome to Night Vale), adult language (let Kevin say fuck!), again its MILD AS HELL but it is there., its not even hurt comfort its just Hurt., this is so sad, very mild suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackdizzy/pseuds/mackdizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/prioriteas/pseuds/prioriteas
Summary: What’s past is prologue; what’s future is epilogue. This, right here, is maybe Chapter Four or Five.[Writing Prompt: “i love you to death, so i must be dead.” (I Felt Younger When We Met, The Waterparks)]
Relationships: Carlos/Kevin (Welcome to Night Vale), Cecilos is the endgame ship but its not about them, not REALLY. - Relationship, sort of. - Relationship, what i mean is basically "kevin crushes on carlos and carlos does not crush back"
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. this is not another song about love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prioriteas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prioriteas/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dear Kevin,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038481) by [prioriteas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prioriteas/pseuds/prioriteas). 



> Hiya, everyone!
> 
> First off. I will not write a single 'nother thing on this site until Ch6 of DFHE is out. I SWEAR.  
> I'm really proud of this one, though. Honestly, I am.
> 
> For @prioriteas again, and written as a companion piece to one of their fics (It's linked!) I'd highly recommend you read them in tandem, as they're really linked. I really wanted to write a fic about Kevin--more specifically, about Kevin and Carlos. I tried to take a sympathetic approach to Kevin's character without taking an apologetic one. It's not supposed to be an apology fic. Did it come out that way? Maybe.
> 
> i completely tore apart episode 73 of the show--Triptych--for this. Used some parts of 70A as well. CONTAINS SPOILERS UP TO EPISODE 100, THOUGH! ALSO contains spoilers for the extended WTNV Novel It Devours, and you may be fairly confused without its lore.
> 
> A huge thanks to the people behind Cecil Speaks for the transcripts.

We’ll start at the epilogue.

The epilogue begins as many of Kevin’s nights end. He finishes broadcasting his radio show, packs up his things, goes home, and then broadcasts again. This time, he broadcasts to no public audience, but to a cassette tape that he then throws in a box he swears he is going to burn in the raging fire pits outside, but then hides under his bed for another decade or so.

(The bed is for show. Kevin doesn’t sleep. No-one sleeps, in the Otherworld.)

_ “I love you to death.”  _ Kevin admits, before anything else. This is far from his first cassette tape, but this is the riskiest he’s gotten with one, ever. That’s because this time, he’s considering sending it over. He has a way, now. He was hooked up with a line so he could speak at their wedding. At their  _ wedding.  _

_ “I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I think. When you said to me--” _

  
  
  


“Did you know that the science here is 120 times more potent than in Night Vale??? Because hot diggity damn.”

(Going back now. Just a little bit.)

Kevin never understood science. Kevin was not a man, frankly, of science. Kevin was a humanitarian; he dealt in feeling ( _happiness_ ) and emotions ( _glee_ ) and expressions ( _smile. never, ever, forget to smile, Kevin Palmer_.)

This middle part of the story includes, of course, the ravage by Strexcorp to claim the small, unassuming rival town of Night Vale. Kevin helped, of course. Helping, after all, was what Kevin did. Kevin helped with a smile on his face and a laugh at the end of every sentence until he couldn’t help anymore, until he got trapped, here, until finally, Kevin Palmer couldn’t take it anymore. Until Kevin couldn't help anyone.

This is where the middle part of the story  _ really  _ begins; where Kevin Palmer has company in a nonexistent wasteland for the very first time.

“You’re Carlos!” He snapped a few times. False exuberance, forced smile. “Radio boy’s boyfriend.” 

“And you’re….the other radio guy.” Carlos said, at a slight loss for words. “The teeth guy.”

“Kevin!” He stuck out a hand. “Kevin, and it is  _ good  _ to have some company! You don’t know how  _ long  _ I’ve been stuck in this joint!”

Kevin, in fact, didn’t know how long he’d been stuck in this joint himself. Time was different, here. Slower. Distance was meaningless. Reality had no shape. He’d gotten used to it, eventually, but Carlos the Scientist was brand new. They had a lot of work to do.

  
  
  


_ “There isn’t a thing about you I haven’t loved.”  _ Kevin groans into his cassette tape, both hands over his mouth.  _ “There isn’t a thing about you I haven’t loved, and there isn’t a moment with you I haven’t wanted to be him, so so badly, and--and the way you  _ _ talk _ _ about him, Carlos. Is he everything you want and more? He must be. You’re marrying him, after all, he must be!” _

It’s a little ironic, Kevin can’t help but think. He’s met Cecil, more than once. He claimed his radio station, after all! He banished him from his line of work! He stared him down in deathly glee as he was banished here to the Otherworld in return! And the entire time, he had tried to get a read on Night Vale’s little radio announcer. The entire time he had tried, and humanitarian as he was, the entire time he had struggled. He had struggled until the further-middle, struggled until the Otherworld, when Carlos had said;

  
  
  


“He’s just like you, really.”

The Desert Otherworld had--has--day and night cycles, the same as anywhere else. Bodies do not react the same to them, as people live in a state of static non-existence; circadian rhythms aren’t in effect when you don’t sleep for decades, when you can be hot with no heatstroke, cold with no hypothermia, starving or beaten with no bleeding or death. A hellish way to live, really, but if there are any upsides at all to the predicament, the increased productivity is one of them.

Carlos and Kevin were sitting on a purple and white checkered blanket, staring up at a sky full of stars. Well, to be more specific; Kevin was lying on the blanket, Carlos was off a few feet away collecting samples, but they were both looking at the stars. Kevin liked the stars much better than he liked the sun, believe it or not. While he enjoyed the burn on the retinas looking directly at a burning star gave, there was something nice about serenity, too, something he hadn’t appreciated until Carlos was here.

“What?” Kevin laughed, like it was preposterous, a bit cruel, a bit mocking, a bit like he hadn’t heard what Carlos had said, all very bright. But he’d heard him. He’d heard him just fine. His hands curled up a little in the blanket, one of the only possessions they kept on them; better to keep things that had lots of uses, out here, especially uses that were good in a desert.

“Cecil, I mean. He’s just like you. He’s friendly, and observant--” Carlos peered into one of his jars curiously-- “And enthusiastic, and impulsive, and moody, and…” He shrugged. “Reminds me a lot of you, Kevin.”

“Oh, great.” His teeth grinded together just a little bit from pressing so hard against eachother, a not-smile within a smile. “That’s fucking fantastic, Carlos, thank you for reminding me how I am  _ just like  _ your boyfriend.”

Carlos frowned, an offense all on its own. “It wasn’t supposed to--”

“Well then, what was it supposed to be, Carlos?” He propped himself up, his chin resting in his hands, both elbows digging into the scorching (even at night) sand. “A coping mechanism, per say? A method to cure your crippling loneliness and isolation? A way to remind yourself that I’m just a  _ replacement  _ for the thing you’ll inevitably abandon me for?”

“I’m sorry I spoke.” The perfect scientist huffed, bending down with his back to Kevin to get some more of the crystalline sand. “What I meant to say is just like you, only better.”

  
  
  


_ “That’s the thing I hate the most, I think! Even though I’m not supposed to hate anything, I do! I hate it! I hate that I am so close to being what he is, that maybe in another place, or--another time, maybe you would’ve settled for me.”  _ Kevin winds back the tape--he’s normally done by now, but today he is not even close--and looks out the window. He wants to see if the stars are still out--they are. He doesn’t know when the sun will be up, because the progression of time does not make sense here, but he worries that by the time it will, he will have missed the wedding already.  _ “Then there was the other time.”  _ He laughs, in the way you laugh when something isn’t funny at all.  _ “The time way back when, the time before the forgetting. The time when he said to me--” _

  
  
  


“ You win, Kevin. Everything goes right. You and community radio prevail. And you are happier than ever. Desert Bluffs is a wonderful town, and you live happily in it.” 

Kevin still doesn’t know if Cecil Palmer was talking about the Desert Bluffs of then or the Desert Bluffs of now. This hardly matters, because Kevin didn’t win either way. The second time, he’d been thrown through a door by a man who knew no religion. And the first time;

Well, that’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. That’s the prologue. 

  
  
  


“You can’t come through here! You can’t!”

His voice--Kevin’s voice--sort of. It was like someone stole Kevin’s voicebox and used it to create a sound with no happiness behind it whatsoever. His body was fragile, limbs like twigs, skin like paper. Pale and clean and pristine, and maybe scarred over with the horrors of being a radio announcer, but not stained with perpetual blood. Hazel-golden eyes, 32 teeth. In truth--someone might have ripped out Kevin’s voice box, frankly. But this was before they did that. 

“I won’t let you past. This is my radio station. This is my town, God Damnnit!” 

.

.

Ŷ̴̡̙̱̰̲̲͊͛͛̃̓̒͞͡Ö̵͇͍̙̼̜̜̥͐͗̿̊͂̑͢U̵͍̫̯̙͕͙̰̪̔͂͐̃͊̉͗͘͢͡ W̵̡̨̯̬̯͇̠̬̉̑̏͗̆O̭̲͖̻̭͈̙͋̒̅̔̅̚͠R̭͕͉̭̦̗͕̮̓̐̂̔͝S̵̝̠͖̣͇͌̔́̈͛͘͜͟͟͠͡͞H̴͎͎̦̫̯̑̏͊̋̽̀͡I̵̛̖͓̘̠͎͇̫̞̳̤͋͗͆̃P̬̳̖͓̞̭̝͂́͌̀̏͘ T̨͙͍̏̃͑͐̃̒͋͢͢H̵̳̗̤̬̼̥͒̂̌̑̆̆̚͢͠͞ͅȨ̗͍͎̮͆̇̌̎̀̑̾ W̡̛̯̱̘̭̄͑̚͟͞͝͞ͅR̡̩̠̪̞̯͙̦̗̂̾͒́͒͛̅͢Ọ̤̤̻̬̜̦̯̤̪̍́͛̕͡N̜̤̪̣̼̬̆̔̉͆̓͒͠͡Ģ̷̦̯̗͖̖͋̌̔̀͋͌̎ͅ G͓̬̠̰̝͑̐̾̉̓̈̚̚Ơ̼̺͚͎̘͕̝̖͓̒̈́͐̈̍̓̚͢͡D̵̰̱̰̩̪͔̟̹̑͒̂̔̓̃̐̏͋͡,̼̲̱̦̮͑̍͗̀̓͛͑̂͜ B̢͍͙̯̾̽͛̒̎̊͜͟͢͡Ǫ̮͉̲̮̌̉̍͌͝Y̨̤̟̺͖͈͕̩̳͒̏̄̅̅́.̵͍̣̘̦̙̳̓̾̎̿͛̑̈́̆

.

Kevin didn’t know what that meant, and he didn’t exactly want to. Kevin would learn, though. Kevin would learn all about what Strexcorp had planned for the town he so wrongfully claimed as his. And yes, of course, someone ripped out Kevin’s voice box, eventually. They did a lot more than that.

\\.

W̧͍͖͚̒̈́̃̄̈́͊͂͘͘͟H̲̳̰̲̙̥͙̄͌͊̉͡͞Ą̸̲̩̬͈͚͎̰̼̮̑̒̍̂̇̚͝͡T̸̨̮̦̤͉͎̏̏̆̃͒ Ḑ̡̙̩̻̪̾̿̈́̍̏̔Ị̢̱̙̱́̓͒̌̕ͅD̸̛̟͎̟̯̟̺̦͉̣͖̊̈͗̚ Ỹ̤̺̺̝̠̟̼̲̅̔́͐̽͠ͅǪ̵͚̟̝̫̬̞͚̤͙͊͑̈͑̌̄̒̚͞U̡̧͉͓̻̻̼̣͌̋̏̾̕͢͠ Ď̶̦̣̮̞̘͎͂̾̂͊͑͋͒͢͞ͅO̧̞͍͔͍̱͓̲̍̈̐͡͞ Ẉ̯̬̍̈́͋̀̚̚͜͟R͎̦̞̪̘̬̙̼̹̓̔̆̈́̽̇͊̕Ȏ̫̰̘͎͇͚̌̌̏͘͘͜N̢̛͉̬͈͈̭͉͓̪̈́͆̏̆͗͛͢͡G̣̹̪̗͔͑͗̾̊̉̾̄͢͞ͅ,̶̡̘̟͇͓̰͖͈͍̩̽͌͆̀͆͌͘͞͝ K̸̢̜̱̠͓̦͇̃̌̓̒͗͜È͖͓͔̳̤̥̦̳̔̎͗̈́̍͘̕V̧̛̳̪̹̹͙͌̌̆̍̃͟͢͜ͅĨ̶̛̩̗̟͎̫͍̹̈́͌̊͗͜͞N̛̟̜̮̠͙͙͈̤̉̓̎̎͆ͅ?͈͈͖̙̔̃̌̎̏͋͊͘͟ T̡̯̲̹͔̮͒̀̾̓̏͘È̻̱͚̟͚̬̍̋̀̑̈̓͘͠L̶̨̜̦̫̹̟̾̈̈̎͛̚͞͞L̴̮̺̰͍̞̦͉̐͛̌͆̚͢ Ṃ̡̛̤͓̯̠̰͇͂͗̽̿ͅE̷̢͉̯̙̫̘̤̘͌̓̂̽̓̄͢͠.̙͙̬͖̥̅͒̈́̿͋͐̕͟

.

Kevin’s throat was sore from the neat row of stitches over his larynx. His skin burned like fire and his head hurt like salvation, and when something he couldn’t place touched him, the feel of static electricity made him strain against bindings in impulsive terror. 

.

T̬̣̗̜̤͋̊͛̆͠Ě̛̳͙̰̻̩̮̹͇̅͌͡͠͠L̡̬̠̣̜̙͎̺̃̌͊͛̽̕͟͝L̶̢̛̯͚̤̣̬̦̭̗̣̈́̔̋̃͐͆ Ǘ̟̰̭̝͑̽̂̾͜S̨̯͈͕̤̖̺̠̐̊̇̀͛̋͘,̷̩̤̞̞̳̗̦̲͔͛̽̌̽̑̕͝ K̡̹̰̳̻͇͐͂̍̃͡E̸̺͈͙̪̻̼̎̒̐̈́̃͒̈̏̑͗V̷͙̭̼̺̲̰̙̝͂̐̅̈͆̃̿ͅǏ̴̡̳̻̖͎̳̻̬͛̋̀̐̉͆͌̕N̢̢̯̼̜̠͔̓͂̈̒̈́̆̇̕͘͢.̴̡̡̧̻̹̘͈͇̮̹́̐̀̄̄̐̄̕͝

.

Kevin used his new voicebox simply to laugh.

  
  


_ “That would be the time, wouldn’t it? That would be the reality? The one where they never got to me! The Kevin that got away! The Kevin that turned out alright.”  _ Legs shaking, he found the nearest chair and sat.  _ “We were friends! Your little fiance and I. We--”  _ He waved a hand in the air, aimlessly.  _ “We liked cats. I know why you love him, Carlos. He told me such...such amazing things. And then he--”  _ This laugh was much more exuberant, a much more  _ Kevin  _ laugh, like this was something he found absolutely hilarious.  _ “And then he did what everyone does, always!” _

  
  
  


Carlos left him.

This was no surprise to Kevin, in the end. Ignorance was easier, of course. One of the many things he’d learned in his time with Carlos. So he’d smiled, because smiling was what Kevin did best. He’d waved. He told Carlos to choose happiness, because he still believed that was the way. He still believed happiness was a choice. He still does, in fact, but he did even more strongly back then. What he’d wanted to say, in that moment, was: 

_ ohGod,Carlos,pleasedon’tleave,wehavesomuchworktodo,pleasedon’tleave,youcan’tleave,don’tleaveme,Ican’tbealoneinaplacelikethis,thisisanawfulplaceCarlos,pleasedon’tleave,don’tgo,notlikethis,youdidn’tevensaygoodbye,don’tdothis,pleasedon’t leave.  _

What Kevin actually said, in that moment, was:

“Goodbye, Carlos!”

  
  
  


_ “I guess I’ve gotta say it for real, now! I guess we all have to, sooner or later.”  _ Kevin pursed his lips, letting the tape run the rest of its course.  _ “I think, really truly, I wish I could be there. I wish I could see you smile, Carlos Palmer, because I don’t think it’s something I quite know how to do anymore.” _

_ “I love you to death, so I must be dead.” _

The cassette winds out. Kevin pulls it out of the recorder, puts it in the player, and listens to it. Then, he listens to it again. Then he listens a third time, but he listens with all three of his eyes, this time. 

He doesn’t send it. It goes in the box under the bed. Almost five years’ worth, now.

Kevin picks up a blank one--he’s got thousands--and slips it in the recorder, clears his re-educated voicebox, and tries again.

_ “Hiiiii, all you beautiful happy people!” _


	2. interlude: carlos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy! Chapter 2! And if you check the tickboxes, you'll note that you're getting at LEAST three chapters out of this puppy. Probably ONLY three, but we'll see.
> 
> This is an interlude, so it's a relatively short chapter. I was going to publish it alongside a series of other flash pieces, but I decided I really like the purpose it could serve here, breaking up what we've already seen and the hell we're going to. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> The tags have been edited, slightly. This chapter contains MILD MILD //MILD// eye trauma and body horror, and needles/stitches. Read at your own discretion, as it's not necessary at all to the next chapter that will come.
> 
> And remember to check out @prioriteas 's Dear Kevin, linked at the beginning of this fic, its companion piece!

“Come here.”

Carlos was still  _ exceedingly  _ mad at him, even after they’d been stuck together in this Desert Otherworld _quite_ a while now. The first month of their relationship had been fine--amicable, even--but it had soon deteriorated. There were near-constant fights over every little thing, over Carlos’s habits, over his habits, and very frequently, over Cecil. Currently, they were on a no-talking basis, Carlos working at one side of the camp they’d set up and Kevin brooding at the other. Or, at least, Kevin had thought they were on a no-talking basis, like they’d been for the past hour or maybe week, but Carlos had just spoken, and so over he scurried.

“Does it hurt?”

Carlos was pointing one finger pressingly at his face, and Kevin wanted to laugh out loud. Was Carlos calling him ugly? Had he called him over to be petty? He wouldn’t put it past the scientist, at this point.

Then, he realized what Carlos was gesturing to.

“Oh, this?” He did laugh, anyway, but it was the stifled and awkward kind as he gestured to the gaping socket in the middle of his forehead. “Yeah, it always hurts.”

“Even…here? We’re not supposed to feel pain, here.”

He shrugged a shoulder in the air. “Yeah, here! Maybe that’s just for like... _ new  _ injuries? Not things that sort of...always hurt all the time.”

Carlos frowned and pointed to a folding chair in the corner of the tent. Kevin sat wordlessly, a very rare frown tugging at his lips. He couldn’t help but wince when Carlos stepped forward holding something very sharp; a needle and thread, he soon realized, and his eyes widened in fear.

“Again, it... _ might  _ hurt.” Carlos emphasized. “But this is the Otherworld. What you said might be true. And presumably, the pain is coming from where your skin split, so...this should help, at the very least, with any future pain. But it’s--you don’t have to, if you don’t want, I just thought I would--”

“No, no, go ahead.” It wasn’t even an exclamation. His voice was infinitely soft, softer than he ever thought he could make his voice manage. “It’s--that--I’d appreciate that, yeah, thanks.”

And so Carlos got down on both knees--a good sight, he’d be the first to admit--and Kevin would’ve shut his two working eyes, but it was like watching a car accident in slow motion. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Carlos bit his lip while he was concentrating, the one curl that fell onto his forehead and stuck with the desert perspiration, and he barely even noticed Carlos was speaking to him until about the third time he said his name.

“Kevin!”

“Hm?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh? Nope!” Kevin lied through his teeth, lied through his smile, which is something he was exceedingly good at. Very in-character, Carlos bought it, and Kevin watched Carlos’s face screwed up in concentration as he finished, felt the ever-so-slight-tremble of his hands that he urged to keep still, and deduced from the exceeding slowness how much he actually cared, and he looked at the scientist,  _ really,  _ for the first time, and he fell in love instantly. 

“There.” Carlos said, barely over a whisper, and their eyes locked for a single second. “It’s done. Better?” He straightened up and folded both hands behind his back, and Kevin nodded, standing. He felt a little light-headed, and nearly stumbled until Carlos caught him, but--

“Yes, actually!” Surely this, among other recent developments, was more than an adequate reason for his very cheery, very loud demeanor to return. “It--it feels great!” He cleared his throat, returning to a more gentler tone for just a moment. “Really. Thanks, Carlos.”

“Yeah, no--”

“Why did you do that?”

Carlos turned, as if not expecting him to say that at all. “...What?”

“Well, I mean--I thought we weren’t talking, right? Suddenly you’re gonna go and perform surgery?”

“I’m a scientist.” Carlos said, shrugging a shoulder in the air. “I help people. I did it because--because it’s my job, Kevin! That’s it. That’s all.”

_ For now,  _ Kevin couldn’t help but think as he walked away in a huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you all probably know by now, I would very very much appreciate any comments you have to be left. I adore reading them, they really make my day. Thank you so much in advance!


	3. we're all cowards when it really comes down to it, carlos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @prioriteas just updated chapter's 3 and 4 of the companion piece to this fic, Dear Kevin (linked at the beginning of this fic!) I went a little bit googoo gaga and churned something out in less than an hour.
> 
> As evidenced by the end of the chapter, this is not the last chapter you'll be getting from this fic.

**_Dear Carlos,_ **

The tape winds itself click-click-click back, matching the frequency with which Kevin’s pan taps furiously against the desk (at least those are legal here), nervous jitters inside himself he’s been begging to release. He’s been anxious all day. It was a very, very, normal day, all things considered. He left with the rise of the sun, went to work, came back, did nothing for a few hours, and now, it’s tape time.

When he was  _ at  _ work, Kevin did the thing that Kevin did best--he ignored the obvious. The obvious, being, of course, that there were people here, and that they were people from Night Vale, and that they had been coming here sporadically, for about six months now. And that he’d spoken to every one of them with tight-lipped, bright smiles, and they’d smiled back with tight lips too not out of any governmental necessity but out of self-instinctual survival. And they’d talked, very very little about Night Vale and mostly about  _ his  _ community,  _ his  _ town, and that was how Kevin did it, that was how he still knew he mattered.

Once, while getting coffee, someone told him how much he reminded them of  _ Cecil Palmer,  _ and he’d knocked their lights out, but he doesn’t think about that too much.

**_Today when I got to work, I thought it was going to be a day like any other! I thought; “Alright! Things are really good now, Kevin! There are_ ** **_people_ ** **_here! They listen to your show! They like you, Kevin, they like you and you matter!” And that was that, and things were pretty damn okay, if you ask me, and then I went home, and then--_ **

Five hours ago, someone knocked on the door.

**_And then you showed up, Carlos the Scientist. And you looked at me--_ **

Carlos’s eyes were as big and brown as he ever remembered them and they swept him up and down with concern, five or six times, pulled up in that  _ confused _ look he’d grown so fond of, and he watched the scientist bite his lip and he watched one accusatory finger be pointed square at his chest, and he watched the look of confusion turn into one of mild resentment.

_**And then you laughed, and then you said--** _

“Is that my  _ shirt?” _

“Huh?” Kevin laughed, looking down at the Tee he was wearing. This one read  _ You matter (unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light^2...Then you energy). This one  _ noted importantly, as Kevin had about 6 t-shirts with dorky science sayings that he routinely wore. 

“Oh! Uh!” He scratched the back of his neck, one of his rather insincere smiles stretching across his face. “Well, uh, it’s—um, it’s—aha! Yuh-huh.” He nodded, at that. “Mmhmm, um! It’s hard, with just the same old shirts over and over again, not like we can go buy MORE, and, trading with other people gets old once, because only certain people are in your size, and—“ 

_ And, if very distantly, this  _ _ is _ _ the Otherworld, so they still sort of smell like you.  _

And then Carlos told him that he got it, and then Carlos told him that he hadn’t even noticed they were missing, and then Carlos told him that he was here to take people back home. Back home to Night Vale. To their real home, where time made sense and you were an actual person.

**_Well, of course I was angry, Carlos. These are kind, respectful, brand-new, law abiding Desert Bluffs Too citizens! This is more than two thirds of our population! That’s not counting the people who just_ ** **_decided_ ** **_to leave on their own volition, who didn’t even come on over because of your_ ** **_stupidity!_ ** Kevin slams his hand on the desk.  **_The truth of the matter, Carlos the Scientist, is that_ ** **_you _ ** **_fucked up and_ ** **_you_ ** **_couldn’t deal with it, so you had to save face by taking away everything I have ever worked for, and you won’t ever acknowledge you fucked anything up for me either, now will you?_ **

“Do  _ you  _ want to come back?”

“Wh--what?” Kevin couldn’t help but stammer over his cup of tea. He’d changed for company (that was it, that was the reason,  _ for company),  _ but wearing stifled button-up shirts at home threw off one of the only pieces of routine this world had, and he was wildly uncomfortable in it despite the afternoon they’d had, amicable, despite it all, talking about god knows what sort of lazy afternoon things. He was wildly uncomfortable by the question. He could count on one hand residents of Night Vale that might be happy to see him, if he went back. He thought about hunger, again. He thought about fatigue, again. He thought about sickness, again. He felt the ridge of metal under his shirt collar and bit his lip, a shudder running through his shoulders, and he thought of what it would be like to stand in a town that wasn’t his shoulder-to-shoulder with Cecil Palmer, and he shook his head.

“If you don’t mind, absolutely not!” He said with a laugh. “No, I’ll stay right where I am.”

**_Did I make the wrong choice?_ ** Kevin groans, burying his head in his hands.  **_What if I had gone back? Would Desert Bluffs Too survive?_ ** _ Is that what it’s even about, anymore?  _ **_Would I be able to deal with the inadequacy? Would I enjoy it? Would any part of it have been worth it? Will I ever know?_ **

“Well, I’m coming back sooner or later, Kevin. I’m afraid I’ll just have to ask you again. Think on it, will you?”

**_I’ll think on it._ ** He mutters, burying his head in his hands. Then he goes to change into one of his nightshirts, which he doesn’t sleep in, but he wears at night anyway. This one reads  _ Think like a proton; stay positive!  _ And it is, frankly, one of his favorites.

Kevin means to slap the date label on the tape before he throws it into the to-burn-box. Kevin doesn’t mean to grab the wrong label entirely in his formulated end-of-night-laziness. Kevin doesn’t mean not to bother to double check the tape, which now reads  **_FOR THE WEDDING,_ ** but he doesn’t  _ not  _ mean to, either. Time is weird, here, after all

and somebody knocks on the door.


	4. goodbye (for real this time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is going to be a different kind of tape than you're used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap. My first long-term fic completion!! Not quite as long as DFHE, sure, but that one's coming up soon too, and I managed to churn out four consistent chapters for this, something I'm absurdly proud of.
> 
> Tags updated for this chapter! Adult language (let kevin say fuck!) and some VERY MILD suicidal ideation (not intense, and it's only for about one line). 
> 
> a huge thanks to @prioriteas as always. Please go check out their "dear kevin," as it was the inspiration for this fic, through and through. This chapter doesn't entirely align with its canon, but they're still accompaniment pieces, and I'm really glad to have worked together to create this! 
> 
> thanks again all. love you guys!

He sends the wrong tape.

Let’s reiterate, because Kevin Palmer can not stress this enough;  **_This was an accident._ **

He was in a stupor, that night. Guilty and filled with anger and simply  _ confused  _ about seeing Carlos again. He wasn’t really paying as much attention to his nightly routine as he usually was. He thought he put the tape-- _ that  _ tape, why did it have to be  _ that  _ tape?--in the normal box, the burn box that he never actually got around to burning, but apparently, he’d made a near-fatal error.

Can’t die in the Otherworld, but maybe that’d be nice.

The kicker? Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s done it. Not until one fateful night (day?) That seems just like any other. They all blur together at this point, the scratches on his calendar and the tick of the clock the only real indicator that time exists anymore. It’s been a while since he’s seen Carlos. Years. But the wounds might be fresher in Carlos’s head, he knows that. Maybe if time wasn’t so weird, they wouldn’t be here, like this, him scrambling to pick up the phone still in his pajamas.

(This T-shirt reads  _ Think like a Proton: Stay Positive) _ .

“Hello?” He drawls, sleepily. Of course, he’s not really sleepy, but exhaustion overtakes his body in waves, sometimes. That’s why nightly (daily?) routines are important in the first place.  _ This had better be someone good,  _ he couldn’t help but think,  _ And it better not start with L.  _ The last thing he was expecting, though, was the voice he was actually greeted with, making him almost drop the phone.

“Kevin? We need to talk.”

“Carlos!” Kevin exclaimed, feeling a rush of joy through him that was evident in his voice--or, it could be cracked up to his public persona, which out of closed walls basically always sounded like that. He realized what the call must’ve been about just then, and he couldn’t help his disposition sour just a little, but he tried not to let it show. He’d sent the tape out very shortly after he’d seen Carlos last--no time to dawdle when time was so weird, after all. “Did you like it?” He said with a laugh, "Don't worry, I'm pissed as all hell that Lauren had to be there too! She just-- _ shoved _ her way on, really tedious, honestly." He leaned back in his chair and tutted. "Look, if you're trying to invite me, I appreciate it, real sweet and all, but there's no physical  _ way _ for me to get there!" 

Nor was he interested in getting there, but he didn't have to say that part out loud. "Anyway, you're welcome! In advance."

Carlos was obviously trying to cut in a few times as Kevin talked, but since he found that quite rude, he didn’t let the scientist get very far until he was done.” _ Kevin!”  _ He exclaimed, and Kevin couldn’t help but find himself surprised at the exasperation in his voice. "That's not what I'm calling about. Well-- no, it is, but that's not--" 

There was a deep breath heard audibly through the receiver. "Lauren wasn't on the tape, and even if she was, I really wouldn't have minded. Um." A pause. "I  _ think _ ... I think you might've sent me the wrong tape.”

Kevin went white as a sheet.

"Or, I  _ hope _ you did," his voice hardened, some, "because that..."

Kevin waited for Carlos to finish. He never did.

"Um." Kevin blanked, and there he couldn’t muster words for about 5 seconds as he just.... _ stared _ at the wall ahead of him. What he realized he’d said hadn't been an exclamation. It had been a complete deadpan statement, and it had obviously sounded  _ horrified, _ as the gravity of what he had said set in. "Oh no." He whispered, barely above a breath. "Oh....oh no. Oh no. Ohhhh.  _ Ohhhh, _ no." 

Kevin had a choice here. He could laugh, and say,  _ oops, you must've gotten the  _ _ other _ _ tape _ , and pray it wasn't one that was  _ too _ awful (it must be) and try and figure out which one it was, or he could do the thing that would be simultaneously so much easier and  _ so much harder, _ and be honest. 

Kevin may have had no qualms about lying,  _ ever, _ but at heart he was an honest person, so this was the option he went with. "You're...." He muttered, shutting his eyes tight and pressing his fingertips to them. "Gonna have to be pretty fucking specific, Carlos." He laughed, harsh and grating and not very genuine at all. "I have--a few, of them, um." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What did it say?"

"You obviously made it after I came back," Carlos started, and his voice was a little more quiet, a little more gentle. "You talked about the people from Night Vale coming to the Otherworld, and then you mentioned me showing up, and you summarized the whole, ah," Another pause " _ shirt _ , thing.” Kevin couldn’t help but look down and wince, but he didn’t say much more. “And then, you... expressed some  _ anger _ towards me." His tone changed slightly when he mentioned the last part. His voice grew harder again, and he sounded hurt for a moment. Kevin wished he could say he felt bad, but his guilt registered as a deep, resigned bitterness.

"Then, you had a small crisis over whether or not you'd made the right choice in staying there, end tape." He shrugged and he sighed and he closed his eyes again. "Nothing terrible, I suppose, I just-- I wanted to let you know."

“You seem to think it was pretty terrible.”

“Well-Kevin, you said some really hurtful things.”

Kevin pressed his fingers to his temples, tight. “I know, I know.” He muttered, trying to re-force his cheery demeanor. “Uh, oops, I guess? You weren’t supposed to see that, yknow! I didn’t record it  _ for  _ you.” And there it was, that sharped bitter tone, avoid it as he tried. “I recorded it for me. I recorded it  _ all  _ for me. I have tons of them, Carlos, I--” His breath hitched, and he laughed, because laughing was all he knew during distress. He hadn’t cried since they’d torn his eye out.

“Nevermind all that.” Carlos muttered. “I think it’s time I stop talking to you.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in five years.” Kevin said, and it obviously had a clearer message behind the direct meaning.

“You chose to stay there. I didn’t choose for you.”

“Wh--you thought I would just come back? You thought I would come to your  _ wedding?”  _ He was contrasting what he said earlier, but he hardly cared. He just laughed, sharp and bitter. “I would never dare to come into that space. Not with you, not with  _ Cecil.”  _ He said the word like it was truly a dart of venom. “Oh, Cecil, who you love so, so much, who you’re  _ marrying,  _ no, sorry, already married!--”

“You have no right to talk about him that way. He’s done nothing to you. Not after everything you’ve done, to both of us.”

“Sure, sure!” Kevin chirped, finding it in him to be cheery once more. “If you’re going to sit there and attack me, I think I’m going to hang up the phone now, Carlos. Did you get anything wonderful out of this conversation, did you get anything  _ worthwhile?” _

“Yeah, actually, Kevin.” Carlos mutters, and it’s within a realm of bitterness Kevin hadn’t been expecting. “I got the message. And it’s one I think I needed.” There was another pause. “Goodbye, Kevin. For real, this time. I don’t think I’m quite done expressing that yet, but I’m done expressing it to you.”

Kevin couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. Was there a chance Carlos had developed the same coping mechanism he had? Was there a chance he was willing to call it what it was, now?    
  
“Yup!. Me too!” Was there maybe--maybe even--the slightest chance that what he said next was true, that he was going to go down to the endless wastes, and really mean it?

Kevin wasn’t the one who hung up the phone, but he sure wished he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, thanks for reading, everyone! As always, I'd really really appreciate some comments if you enjoyed. They keep me going! Thank you all! <3\. CH6 OF DFHE COMING ASAP ASAP ASAP.


End file.
